


Home Sweet Home

by MadMags



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Bisexual Male Character, Car Accidents, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Claire Novak's Parents, Custody Battle, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff and Smut, Infidelity, Inspired by..., M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, Parent-Child Relationship, Pining, Present Tense, Sorry Not Sorry, Time Skips, everything is not as it seems
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-03 15:46:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10970394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMags/pseuds/MadMags
Summary: Inspired by fanvideos by Destiel Heaven. Took the inspiration, and sort of ran off with it.Dean's in love with his perfect family man neighbor Jimmy Novak. The perfect family isn't so perfect, but neither is the dysfunctional patchwork family either. When Jimmy dies, Dean loses everything. His lover, his daughter. He packs up and runs away to California. What happens when his daughter hunts him down? What happens when together they find out Jimmy isn't as dead as they were lead to believe?Read on to find out!





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Home Sweet Home](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/292086) by Destiel Heaven. 



> Please forgive any long lapses in updates. I kinda suck.

Dean has lived across the street from Jimmy, Amelia, and baby Claire Novak for the past six months. He’d bought the house after his brother had graduated Stanford University, and their childhood home seemed far too big for the single thirty year old. Jimmy and Amelia are the kind of neighbors that bring muffins to welcome new neighbors. The kind of people you can trust to pick up your mail while you’re gone, or invite over for a barbeque on Memorial weekend.

They're nice, in a boring-white-picket-fence sort of way.

Jimmy is a musician, whose day job is a radio host for an AM radio station. And yet, Dean can’t stop thinking about his long slim pianist fingers or the way his eyes crinkle when he grins at Dean. It makes him rush hot and cold when Jimmy waves at him from across the road. The man loves his wife and infant daughter, Dean knows, and he can't just avoid his neighbors because of the silly crush. If he felt like he was on the outside of their life, face pressed to the window pane, well that’s just his problem. The sweet little family didn't deserve Dean's bachelorhood turning into a home-wrecker.

Dean is mowing his lawn when he sees Jimmy arrive home from work. He’s fighting with the old mower, but he lets the engine die as he sees Jimmy's wild nest of hair blowing in the wind. He starts to smile as he watches Jimmy bend down into the small sedan, and he feels a bubbling happiness as Jimmy lifted a small Rottweiler puppy into his arms.

A puppy to round out the perfect little family. Little Claire will grow up with a fluffy best friend.

He smiles to himself, nodding as he restarts the mower, watching Jimmy disappear into his house with the little pup. His brain echoes with memories of Sam as a kid begging for a dog.

A few weeks later, they’re sharing a beer on Dean’s back porch, as the sun begins to set.

The dog curls up against Jimmy’s side, paws kicking in the air as it dreams.

“Amelia decide to keep the name, Juliet,” Jimmy says between drinks, fingers running along the soft fur of the dog's belly. “Amelia works at the shelter, you remember? Couldn’t stop talking about this little girl. She was the last of a litter, all named after Shakespeare characters. ” He smiles at Dean, proud of his surprise present to his wife. “Of course somehow I’ve wound up doing all the puppy training.”

Dean laughs, reaching to scratch behind a puppy-soft ear. The dog licks sleepily at his fingers. Okay, so she's pretty cute.

“Yeah, next she’ll be wanting more kids and then you’ll _really_ have your hands full,” he murmurs, leaning back in his chair.

Jimmy just hums in response, polishing off his beer. They sit in near silence, just enjoying being together as night settles around them. The bugs buzz in the yard, and Dean lets himself pretend Jimmy is his. That this is their life. Two men, enjoying their little home. It’s late when Jimmy finally goes home, and Dean wonders just a little if Jimmy wasn’t lingering on purpose.

 

***

Only a few days later, Dean knocks on Jimmy’s door.

There’s no schedule their nights together, but Jimmy seems surprised to see Dean outside his door.

“Dean,” he breathes, blue eyes earnest and pleased as he nods inside. “Want to come in? Amelia's out with the baby.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’d be great,” Dean says, following inside.

“Beer?” Jimmy asks over his shoulder, heading towards the kitchen. The place is a bit of a mess at the moment, but he’d been working on a new song and hadn’t gotten around to cleaning up. “Sorry about the mess. Composing day.”

“Sure,” Dean says, pulling his hands from his pockets. He still feels awkward visiting Jimmy at home. Like Amelia will somehow see him and _know_ all the dirty thoughts that have once or twice crossed his mind, so Jimmy usually visits him at Dean's place. “What’re you up to today?”

Jimmy reappears with two brown bottles.

“New song,” he says, a bit breathless. Dean can’t look past the tongue caught between Jimmy’s teeth.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Want to hear? I know it's not your usual _rock'n'roll_ ,” Jimmy says, voice dropping into a growl as he talks.

Dean finds himself falling ever harder as Jimmy sits at an old electric keyboard, and his hands begin to dance along the keys. It’s not a grand performance on a master's instrument, but he can see the passion bursting out of Jimmy as he plays. Dean settles with his beer in a free chair, listening. Jimmy mumbles a little bit of lyrics, but his voice isn't really the star. It's his fingers that work the magic.

After a few more songs, they settle together with their beers and a bag of animal crackers (Claire's). They talk for hours, about music, movies, books. Dean doesn’t even realize that Amelia hasn’t been home yet/

“Oh, hey, let me make something to eat,” Jimmy says, realizing how late it’s gotten. “You’re probably starving. Man cannot live on animal crackers alone.”

“Nah, I’m alright, I mean, it’s only,” Dean says, looking at his watch. “Well, fuck, it’s eleven thirty.”

They laugh, and Jimmy proves he’s just as capable in the kitchen as the studio. Dean moans around a homemade burger.

“These make me very happy,” Dean says.

“Me too. My room mate in college worked at a restaurant, taught me how to make more than instant noodles.”

Dean helps with the dishes and starts to wind himself up to leave. Just being in the man's infectious presence makes him wish the night didn't have to end. They’re standing in Jimmy’s living room when a hand stops him.

“Dean.”

Dean turns to see blue eyes looking tired Jimmy’s face. “What’s up, man?”

“Amelia. You've probably realized she and Claire are, uh, not here,” he says, not letting go of Dean’s arm. “I didn't really want to say anything and spoil the mood, but Ames, we... we’re um… getting a divorce.” He scratches his neck with the hand not clinging to Dean.

“What?”

Dean isn’t sure he’s heard Jimmy right. Amelia has actually _met_ her husband, hasn’t she? How could they be getting a divorce? Jimmy is gorgeous, sweet, talented…

“She… It wasn’t working out. We tried to give it a shot for Claire, but it just.. wasn't,” Jimmy says interrupting Dean’s internal panic attack. “She’s moved back home with her folks while we sort out the legal stuff. Took Claire and Juliet. I got the papers two days ago.”

Dean reaches out, heart breaking for his friend, to pull him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry, man. That’s just messed up,” he says, inhaling the warm scent of Jimmy’s body. He feels Jimmy squeeze him a bit tighter, burrowing into Dean's shoulder/

“Dean,” Jimmy says, and Dean feels it in his chest, vibrating with Jimmy’s deep voice. “Dean, I’m not entirely faultless. I-“

Dean pulls back to look at him. “It’s cool. You don’t have to share anything you're not ready for.”

But Jimmy shakes his head, full lips turning in a frown. His blue eyes are dark as he strokes a hand down Dean's upper arm.

“She was jealous of you, me spending time with you. Of my feelings for you.”

The room seemed too big and too small as Dean felt his stomach do a somersault into his liver.

“Your what now?”

“Dean, I,” Jimmy says as a small furrow creases between his brows. “I care about you. I have for awhile now, and I thought, I thought you felt it too.”

“I do,” Dean blurts out. “I mean, I did, but I thought it was- What was - mmph?“

His words are cut off as Jimmy’s plush, chapped lips cover his own. The kiss is slow and sensual. Dean breathes in and tastes the salt and beer on Jimmy’s skin, reaching to cup the stubbled cheeks of the other man. He hears Jimmy mutter his name as firm hands slide his leather jacket from his shoulders. He pulls Jimmy back into a deep and searing kiss, gaining momentum as they stumble towards the couch. Dean’s trying not to rush it, but somehow between _Jimmy_ and _Dean_ , they’re so wrapped in one another they can’t bear to let go.

All the platonic touches, pats on the back, hands on shoulders, they were merely precursors to the stroke of firm calloused hands down tender ribs. Dean learns that Jimmy is svelte as fuck under his baggy clothes, and Jimmy proves to Dean that he's much less straight than Dean originally assumed.

***

Dean is practically living with Jimmy weeks later. He doesn’t do anything crazy like sell his house or start planning a wedding. No matter what Sammy thinks about the affair, he’s got a head on his shoulders. Jimmy's going through a divorce. He's still legally married. But Dean’s certain, absolutely certain that he could marry that man and be happy for the rest of his life. They just _work._

They take rides in Dean’s car (he refuses to touch Jimmy’s old Continental). They have burgers for dinner too many nights in a row and never manage to get the dishes done. They fall asleep on the sofa, tangled together while the television drones on. Jimmy stays up all night writing music with his electric keyboard and headphones. Dean works early at Bobby’s shop. They blend their lives into a near seamless whole, as if they always were and always would be just the two of them against the world. Dean couldn’t believe he could be so damned happy.

“Hello, Dean,” Jimmy says flatly as Dean comes home one Tuesday.

“Hey,” he says, wary.

Jimmy is holding his phone like he’s going to break apart. His dark blue eyes are wet. Dean bends to kiss his forehead, brushing his lips down Jimmy’s nose. He eases the phone away from Jimmy's hands, guiding them to the sofa.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s pregnant,” Jimmy breathes with tremor.

“Wow,” Dean says.

“She still wants the divorce. She doesn't know if it's mine.” Jimmy's eyes are hollow as he blinks. His eyes are big and wet as Dean cups his neck.

Dean can count the space between his heart beats.

“And Claire?”

“Dean.” Jimmy looks away, shaking his head.

“What about Claire, Jimmy?”

Dean growls. Jimmy looks at him, and Dean’s learned to read the longing held in his expression. Jimmy wants that baby, more than anything. If Dean was the love of Jimmy's life, then Claire was Jimmy's world. Jimmy wants his baby girl. Maybe more than he wants Dean. Since Amelia took off with the baby and the dog, Jimmy has clung to Dean in her absence.

Dean licks his lips, nodding. “Alright. Alright. It’ll take a bit of doing but we could get your studio moved across the street, paint up the room. I'll talk to Sam about family law. It'll be hard fighting custody, especially with me in the picture, but-”

Dean finds himself cut off as Jimmy’s fingers dig through his hair, kissing him like he needs Dean more than air. Dean's heart grows a little bigger, a new Claire-shaped space opening up to accommodate Jimmy's little girl.

***

Three months and an uncontested divorce decree later, they’re kissing again, only now there’s a little girl cradled between them.

“Dean,” Jimmy sighs, clutching two-year-old Claire.

“She’s beautiful, Jimmy.”

Jimmy beams down at his daughter, stroking one soft cheek. Claire giggles and shouts - “Bean!”

Dean never expected to have kids of his own. He’d raised Sammy, but Sam was his brother. Now he had a daughter. A beautiful baby daughter and he wasn’t ready. Late night feedings, diapers, toilet training, toys, changing stations, baby food, hair bows, princesses, and toddler beds.

He’s a nervous wreck, and Jimmy isn’t any better. But they manage; they make it work. Claire eats and grows, and Dean falls asleep in the recliner with her in his arms until Jimmy comes to put her in her crib. Claire is an active sleeper, so they've opted to keep the rails up for a little longer.

“Dean,” Jimmy says, and Dean just shushes him.

“She’s perfect, Jimmy. You’re both perfect. Love you.”

***

Claire is growing up too fast. She's creative and curious and sarcastic, full of spit and vinegar, Bobby says. Dean signs her up for the soccer team. She’s such a tiny thing, but she’s a scrapper. He’s managed to wrangle her pale blonde hair into twin tails, thanks to some advice from one of the soccer moms. She waves at him from the field after she scores.

“That’s my girl,” Dean cheers, feeling the deepest ache of love for his little girl.

“Dad, dad, did you see?” she asks as he scoops her up after the game.

“Ooohh, yeah, baby girl. You’re gonna be a superstar,” he laughs as she giggles. “Pizza?”

“Pizza!” she squeals.

Dean has to listen to Jimmy’s complaints about their lack of vegetables and healthy diet, but he eventually understands when Dean explains about her big victory. He caves to Claire's big blue eyes.

Jimmy tucks her in that night. Her little arms hug him tightly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Jimmy asks, picking up her bedtime book.

“Can we go to the park tomorrow?”

Jimmy just chuckles to himself. “We’ll ask Dean in the morning,” he says, knowing Dean will agree to anything. He pretends to be the tough and stern dad, but Dean is putty in Claire’s hands. Some days, Jimmy forgets that Claire isn’t Dean’s at all. With her blonde hair and freckles, she could be as much Dean’s as his. Her blue eyes are all Jimmy though.

Jimmy soaks up as much time with his boyfriend and their daughter as he can. When Claire turned four, he’d given up the radio gig to play professionally. He can mostly work from town, but sometimes he’ll play live or record at a studio that’s requested him. Dean steps in full time, bringing Claire along to visit her “Uncle” Bobby.

Dean finally makes Jimmy trade out his old car for a more modern SUV. He uses every argument from Claire’s safety to Jimmy’s need to carry his equipment on the road. It's not Dean's first choice, but Claire makes it important. Jimmy hates being away from home for long, but the money is good. He and Dean open Claire a college savings account together, which “Uncle” Bobby is quick to donate to.

***

“Hello?” Jimmy answers as his phone rings.

“Hey, baby,” Dean drawls.

“Dean,” Jimmy says, melting into his seat.

“Me and the little twerp were wondering when you were gonna be home?”

Jimmy's been gone for almost a week.

“If I make good time, hopefully by her bedtime, but if I don’t make it in time, put her to bed anyway. I know you like being the fun father, but she has school in the morning,” Jimmy chides.

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, old man. We just miss you,” Dean says. “I miss you, Jimmy.”

“I miss you, too, Dean.”

“Be safe, hear? Storms are rolling through.”

“I love you too, mother hen,” Jimmy laughs.

“Love you, too, dick,” Dean says before hanging up. “See you soon.”

They’re the last words Jimmy hears before an eighteen-wheeler slams into his side.

***

When Dean wakes, he knows something is wrong. It’s morning. It's drizzling rain, and Jimmy isn’t home. He isn't in bed, in the kitchen, or even in the yard. Dean calls his cell. He calls again, and again, and again. He grows more and more worried. He finally caves and calls his little brother.

“Sammy,” Dean says, clutching at his hair.

“Dean?” his brother asks, across the continent and groggy with sleep, but there.

“Jimmy isn’t home yet.”

“It’s like, what? Nine-thirty?” Sam says, squinting at his own clock.

“He was supposed to be home last night,” Dean snipes back.

“Did you call him?”

Dean swears, kicking over a chair.

“Did I fucking call him, Sam? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Dad?”

Dean hangs up on his brother, kneeling down to gather Claire close. He holds her like a lifeline.

It takes too long for answers, and they come from the least likely place Dean expected.

“He was on the road,” Amelia tells him at a hospital barely three hours from home. “The truck ran the light, couldn’t stop fast enough.” She holds a sleeping toddler on her hip, one that definitely didn't belong to James Novak. Claire's with Bobby. Dean couldn't bare to bring her.

Dean can’t breathe. He can’t speak. He just can’t. Jimmy couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. He clutches his hand over his mouth, sucking air through his fingers.

“Dean,” Amelia says, laying a hand on his arm.

He looks at Jimmy’s ex-wife, tears streaming down his face.

“Dean, it’s – I’d like to take Claire home,” she says.

“What? No. No, she’s fine,” he manages to rasp out. “I’ve got her. Bobby and I, we're good. We can-”

Amelia shakes her dark head. “I’m sorry, Dean. I know James loved you, and I know you’ve been there for Claire, but you’re not – “

“If you say she’s not my daughter, I don’t care if you are a woman, I will – “ Dean snarls, growing cold and defensive.

“You have no legal ties to her. She’s my daughter. You don't have a leg to stand on, Dean Winchester.”

***

And like that, Dean loses his family. Jimmy is buried by his brothers. They stand with him at the funeral, holding him while he breaks apart.

Sammy helps him put the house-turned-studio for sale. Bobby hooks him up with a shop in California. Dean packs everything that matters into the Impala and drives away from the little suburban street. His daughter long out of his reach, and his lover dead and buried. He closes his heart and mind to the scant few years he had and locks it all away unless he’s had a good fifth of whiskey and maybe a bit more.

He writes to Claire, but never gets an answer. He stops when the letters start coming back marked Return to Sender.

He works and he drinks. He shoots pool and passes out in his crappy little apartment. It smells like Chinese food and cigarette smoke. More often than not, he sleeps on his couch, an empty bottle or six littering the coffee table. He wakes up, fixes cars, and does it all again.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Claire kills her first demon when she is fourteen. She doesn’t realize that other kids her age can’t see Mrs. Hardin’s, English Lit teacher, face-beneath-her-face. The one that has eyes that glow like coals and teeth that look like needles behind her sweet smile. She lights up like a Christmas tree when Claire runs her through with a silvery blade.

 

At fifteen Claire Novak is well on her way to becoming a full time demon hunter. This also means schooling falls by the wayside as her mother’s family puts her through drills and workout sessions hard enough to leave her dripping sweat. She learns to ice werewolves, burn ghosts, and stake vampires.

 

She carries a small photograph of her dad tucked inside her coat pocket. Her dads, actually. Jimmy Novak and the man Claire remembers as Dean. Dean Winchester was his full name, she finds out later, using library resources to hunt the man down. She misses her ‘real’ parents, but more importantly -

 

Dean Winchester is in danger.

 

***

 

The people around the table cheer, toasting the happy couple. Sam leans over to kiss Jess deeply, causing his fiancee to blush prettily.

 

Dean wolf-whistles at his little brother.

 

“Save some for the honeymoon, Sammy,” he chuckles, downing the last of his champagne.

 

After Jimmy’s death, Dean had moved out to California to be close to Sam, now a Stanford graduate and up-and-coming lawyer. Jess graduated with her degree in nursing, which means his little brother and soon to be sister in law are both extremely busy people.

 

But it’s fine. Dean had found a garage that specialised in classic cars. He found a new bar to drink in, a shitty apartment to rent, and in ten or so years had carved out a whole new life where he is a single man with a devil-may-care attitude. The family man stays buried alongside Jimmy, ripped away from little Claire and her big teary eyes.

 

“Mom and Dad would’ve been so proud of you, kiddo,” Dean says, ruffling Sam’s hair.

 

“Gerroff,” Sam complains, laughing as he pushed at Dean’s hand. He’s glad his big brother is there for him.

 

“Nother round?” he asks, lifting up his empty glass. A vague chorus of yeses echo after him as he heads toward the bar. A pretty young bartender grins up at him, nodding as he orders refills. She is the type he’d have twisted around his finger with a smile and a song, but he’s there for Sam and Jess tonight, not to get his dick wet.

 

As he waits, he sees a flicker of someone through the crowd in the restaurant. A bit of dark hair, a tan coat, a scruffy jaw… His stomach loops like he’s been dropped off a tall building.

 

He starts to walk towards the man. His heart begins to pick up, thumping in his chest as his feet move faster. He slips past a table.  It was… it couldn’t be, but he could have sworn…

 

He shoves a couple out of the way, half running…

 

“Jimmy?” he rasps out. “Jimmy?!”

 

The man starts to turn, and Dean sees a glimpse of brilliant blue before a group crosses in front of him, cutting them off. As they pass, the man has disappeared. Melts into thin air. Dean heaves in deep breathes, eyes roaming the room.

 

A hand lands suddenly on his shoulder.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean spins, eyes wide, mouth agape as he pants. He looks like a cornered animal.

 

Sam’s questioning face blurs.

 

“I thought - “ Dean says, looking behind him, then back at Sam. He shakes his head, unable to clear the apparition. “Nevermind.”

 

“You okay?”

 

“Fine, it’s fine,” Dean promises, patting Sam on the shoulder.

 

There have been times, times when Dean has gotten too sloshed at a bar, drives home too tired from work, or even in a supermarket once, and he sees Jimmy, clear as day. In the years since his death, Dean has rushed after these apparitions. He’s spoken to them, begged, cried, pleaded. Eventually he learns he looks like a crazy person from an outsider's perspective, and decides to reel it in.

 

Maybe Jimmy is just looking after him from the Other Side. Not that Dean is even sure he believes in anything like that anymore, especially not a cruel god who would take away his mom, his dad, his lover, and his little girl.

 

***

 

Dean’s usual bar is not the glitzy restaurant Sam had proposed to Jess in. It’s frequented by truckers passing through, men and women who have seen better days, and like hell they had anything resembling a vegan or gluten free menu. It could be any bar between Seattle and Panama City, and Dean’s just fine with that. It’s a ten minute drive from his apartment, and has half-priced beers on Wednesdays. He plays pool three times a week.

 

Tuesdays he eats at Benny’s Cajun Cafe. He tips Benny’s daughter, Elizabeth, thirty percent, accepting the extra slice of pie she presses on him more often than not.

 

Sundays he has dinner with the family. He drives out to Sam and Jess’s perfect little bungalow, brings a side dish or helps grill out depending on the weather.

 

His routine is written in the grooves of the road by Baby as he cycles through it, week after week. Had his dad still been alive, he would have told Dean being so predictable would have made it easier to track him. The old marine would have tanned Dean’s hide if he’d known just how easy it is for Claire to follow him into the dive bar, false ID in hand.

 

She watches him shoot a couple of games of pool, one of darts, drink one beer and eat a basket of hot wings. She times it just so he is sitting down with his second bottle of the night. She slumps into the booth across from him, heavy boot thudding on the seat. It makes Dean jump slightly.

 

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs over his beer. “You ain’t exactly my-”

 

“Can it, Hasselhoff,” Claire bites out, smacking her hand on the table. “I’m not interested in your dick.”

 

Dean blinks a couple times.

 

The girl reaches into her jacket, pulling the worn photo in a plastic sleeve out. She slides it across the pitted tabletop, keeping her fingertips on it before finally revealing Jimmy’s blue eyes and gummy grin. Dean feels his stomach flip flop with all the grease and beer, hot sauce burning at his throat.

 

The beer bottle thunks as he sits it down, carefully lifting the photo.

 

“Where’d you get this?” he rasps, sound coming out like she’d kicked him in the solar plexus. He clears his throat. “Where the hell did you get this?”

 

Claire plucks the photo from his hand, squirreling it away back into her pocket.

 

“It’s mine.” She glares at him. “It’s a picture of my dads.”

 

“Your…” Dean starts, mouth gaping as his brain clickes the pieces together. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a surly mouth. His little Claire-bear. He quickly downs the rest of his drink, draining it in one go before shoving her foot off the bench. He makes it three steps away before she called after him.

 

“Dad?” Claire calls out, voice going higher, child-like.

 

Shit.

 

He is so, _so_ fucked.

 

***

 

“I don’t have a guest room.”

 

“Sofa’s fine,” she says, dropping her worn duffle beside the furniture. Her hunting gear clanks inside.

  
“What did you pack? Crow bars?”

 

“Among other things,” she replies flippantly.

 

“You mom know where you are?”

 

“Uhh.”

 

“Shit.”

 

“Hey! I don’t answer to her. I can take care of myself.”

 

Dean huffs, muttering “Unbelievable” under his breath before heading to the kitchen. He needs some small measure of space to get his head on straight. His little girl is all grown up. Had it really been so long? She’d only just started school before Jimmy died.

 

“Besides,” Claire continues, haunting the doorway. “There’s some stuff you gotta know.”  
  
“Oh yeah? Like what?”

 

“Like you’re in danger.”  
  
Dean laughs. It’s funny, really it is. Danger.

 

“You have no idea what’s out there!”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong, Claire-bear,” Dean retorts, taking a step towards her.

 

“Don’t you-”

 

“You think-”

 

“My father is not dead!” Claire screeches, voice cracking as her eyes welled up. “Jimmy is not dead.”

 

Dean feels his feet grow rooted to the ground. Another two tons of emotional bullshit slam onto his shoulders.  
  
“Claire, Jimmy died,” Dean breathes, closing his eyes against the pain.

 

“No.”

 

“It was a car accident. You were little. Your mom didn’t-”

 

“NO!”

 

“I’m sorr-”

 

“I’ve seen him!” Claire snarls. “Sort of.” She grows cagey as she backed into the living room.

 

“How do you sort of see your dead father?” Dean demands. “This isn’t some joke, Claire. You can’t just-”

 

Claire laughs bitterly.

 

“Shows what you know. Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen him. But he’s not…  Jimmy anymore.” She opens her bag, pulling out a few things to busy her hands with. “So I guess in a way, Jimmy did die that day. The brainwashing wore off.” She gestures towards her kinky hair, half braided back away from her face.

 

“Brainwashing? Jim was religious, Christianity. He was serious about it, but he was not in a cult.”

 

Claire just shakes her head. Dean has no idea what’s out there, who any of them really were.

 

“His name’s Castiel.”

 

“Cas-tee-what?”

 

“Castiel.” Claire repeats. “He’s an Angel of the Lord.”

 

“Uh-huh,” Dean says, wondering if he should call Sam or the cops or maybe the men in white coats.

 

“I’m not crazy!” Claire demands. She has her blade in her hand now. “I’m not. I’ve told you, you have no idea what’s out there, and it was Castiel’s time to help replenish the ranks. I was born, good little demon hunter. The shit that made him Jimmy wore off, and now he’s back out there - but that isn’t what matters!”

 

“What?” Dean asks, watching Claire wave the long knife-thing around as she paces his shitty living room. He ducks back as she passes.

 

“You don’t believe me, I know. I get it, but if you believe anything, you have to understand that you are in danger. I overheard some of people who didn’t like that Castiel spent so much time living as a human. Said he left too many ties, too many connections.” Claire’s mouth turns down, lip wobbling a bit.

 

“You mean, me.”

 

“Yeah, and _they_ don’t like that. Angels start taking off after doing their duty, then demons get the upper hand,” Claire says.

 

“Demons,” Dean snorts.

 

“And other things,” Claire shrugs, the wind going out of her sails. “He doesn’t remember his time as Jimmy, supposedly. But if he doesn’t stop ghosting on his garrison, he’s going to really get in trouble.”

 

Dean perks up at that. The man he sees out of the corner of his eye - “Wait, you mean he’s actually been there?”

 

“Hmm?” Claire asks, seated on the sofa once again. Her blue eyes widen - “So he really is going to you? Oh shit,” she whispers to herself. After Anael disappeared, they have been watching Castiel’s garrison for anomalies. If Dean’s existence is causing Castiel to go astray, then Dean, and by extension, Castiel, is in steep danger.

 

***

 

“Castiel?” Naomi questions as Cas sits across from her at her great desk. “Would you like to tell me where you disappeared to?” Her stern, expressionless face doesn’t hide the irritation he feels in the air. “You left three members of your wing investigating demonic activity.”

He tilts his head in query, blinking absently at her.

 

“I sensed something,” he responds. He can’t tell her what, because he doesn’t know himself. He felt something, near to where his vessel’s heart lay. He had spread his wings and flown, finding himself in the midst of a crowded restaurant before something else had made him leave with urgency he also couldn’t explain.

 

Naomi’s eyes narrow. Castiel is a good soldier, yet he had a rebellious streak that had always eluded her programming.

 

“And was that something a demon?” she asks.

 

Castiel’s eyes flutter as she watches him struggle for an answer.

 

“No?”

 

She sighs. The programming keeps him from deviating too far, but it also blocks the memories from the time he was performing his duty. The nephilim Claire is a success, and Naomi hopes to be able to use Castiel again to produce more super-powered nephilim to fill the thinning ranks of angels on earth.

 

“Castiel, you know deviation from orders requires a punishment,” she informs the seraph across from her. A brief flash of fear is exposed in his eyes, before it glazes over and he nods.

 

“Yes, Naomi,” he says, standing to follow her to the programming suite. Castiel was particularly resilient. Any other angel who had to be rewritten as many times as he had had gone mad. He lays back on the sterile chair, and Naomi picks up her drill. Maybe she would experiment with her technique.

 


End file.
